


Fixing the Machine (A Gift for EarlGrayLeaf)

by MalenkayaLedi



Category: Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-17
Updated: 2013-12-17
Packaged: 2018-01-04 22:42:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1086521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MalenkayaLedi/pseuds/MalenkayaLedi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A gift for EarlGreyLeaf. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Loki, much to Tony's dismay, keeps on showing up in Tony's garage at odd hours in the night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fixing the Machine (A Gift for EarlGrayLeaf)

“Aren’t you supposed to be locked up somewhere?”

                Tony’s words fell seemingly hollow on the slender form resting on the doorway; a thin, golden, glowing glitter framing the form as it came into clearer view. “I am,” it responded. “Doesn’t mean that I can’t be here, too.”.

Tony scowled. “Right. Forgot.”.                                        

Picking up his wrench, he continued tinkering. Butterfingers was going to work properly, damn it, even if he had to take it apart piece by piece and rebuild it himself. He unscrewed a nut from its bolt and placed it in the dish next to his knees. One down, over a hundred left to go. “You know,” the voice continued, “It’d work better if you’d just ask it to.”

Tony ignored him. If he paid him any attention, he’d likely end up for the worse. The man did have a habit of destroying entire cities when provoked. He unscrewed a second bolt and dropped it in the dish. Ninety nine.

He didn’t see him leave, but he heard the woosh of air as he left.

 

* * *

_Christ_ , thought Tony, _you’d think that Fury would’ve figured out how to fix that cell so he couldn’t do that by now_.

                He had finished unscrewing bolts a day and a half ago and was now halfway through disconnecting the wiring. He had built the thing when he was fifteen and now, even half drunk, he could tell that his technique had improved tenfold since then. It was almost embarrassing for him to take it apart and he had been glad that nobody was around to watch him do it.

“Reindeer Games,” he sighed, “You might as well come out of there. You’re being a little weird and its creeping me out.”

                No response. Not like he expected one, really.

“You know, prison usually implies imprisonment.” He said again. No response again. He dropped his clippers to the ground, wiped his hands on a spare rag, and stood up. Brushing his hair back, he turned around to face the doorway.

                He was standing there, arms crossed across his chest, brows furrowed, scowling slightly and resting all of his weight on one hip which was pressed against the frame.  If Tony didn’t know any better, and he probably didn’t, he would swear the look on Loki’s face was one of concentration. “Don’t you have mechanics where you’re from?” he asked him.  Loki scowled. “No,” he responded. “We don’t.”

Tony leaned up against the table in a mock impression of his guest. Loki’s face stayed the same; scowling, furrowed, and stagnant. “Well,” Tony continued, “What _do_ you have?”

Loki’s face broke out into a grin.

_Shit,_ thought Tony _, that wasn’t the right question._

“Do you want me to show you?” Loki asked.

                “Uhm. Not with that reaction, no. No, I don’t.” Tony responded, backing up a few inches.

“Very well.”

And he disappeared.

 

* * *

 

A week later and Butterfingers was fully dismantled and in piles around him on the floor. Tony sat cross-legged with a wrench in one hand and a rum and coke in the other, staring at the torn apart robot. It had been three or four hours and he was sick and tired of staring at the broken pieces and having no idea of how to reassemble them without putting it back together in the same way again. A mental roadblock and Tony Stark did not have mental roadblocks. 

“Having trouble?”

Tony didn’t respond. He was not amused.

“You asked me what we had the last time I came down here.” Loki replied, stepping towards him. Tony hung his head.

                “I’m not in the mood for this, Reindeer Games.” Tony retorted, snorting slightly. He could almost hear Loki’s spreading smile.

“I don’t remember asking for your mood. Unless you remember something I don’t; and then, for all intents and purposes, you are more than welcome to inform me of them.”

                Tony lifted himself by his hands and spun around on his seat to face Loki. “You’re supposed to be in your cell and not down here, harassing me. What do you wa---“

He was cut short by bits of machine floating through thin air, as if they were supported by tiny wings; surrounded by the same golden film that glittered around the man’s shape like a sort of iridescent halo. _His machine,_ he thought to himself. Loki looked at the approaching machinery with a sort of vague interest. Tony was transfixed.

The pieces came to a smooth halt right above Loki’s head, hanging like some sort of wired, floating garden. He looked for the first time, Tony noticed, genuinely intrigued by something. Lifting up a small, slender hand; Loki brushed his fingers through the copper strands. “These…strings. What do they do?”

Tony shook his head.

“They’re, uh. They’re called wires. They connect and power the machine. It was supposed to be kind of, you know, a fire extinguisher that helped me put my suit together and clean up around here. Except it kept on being a smartass and leaving its cell in order to watch me rebuilt itself, so I had to take it apart.”

The corners of Loki’s mouth twitched.

“The blues connect to blues and the reds to reds and so on and so forth.” Tony continued, watching.

Loki nodded curtly. As he touched each piece, they emitted a blue glow and a low hum. “You know,” Loki said, “You’d have a lot more success with your—machine was it? Your machine if you took off these.” And a bit of metal about six inches from Tony’s left shoulder lifted, “And connected these,” Loki pointed to the piece that he had been examining, “To what I’m assuming is an arm of some sort?”

Tony’s jaw unclenched.

“Don’t you trust me?” Loki continued, smiling with closed lips at Tony. Tony shook his head.

“No. I don’t.” he responded.

“Good,” Loki said. His feet started to fade, being replaced by a shimmering golden mist. “Neither do I.”.

 

* * *

 

                He was beyond furious.

Tony’s hair, in stiff peaks from where he had grabbed it with his hands in frustration, was about the only clean thing about him. His clothes were askew with one shirt hem tucked in and the other out like an unruly child. The hems of his pants scuttled around his feet which were covered only by socks; one of which, he noticed as he stomped along the polished stone floors, had a hole in the heel.

                _A hole,_ he noted to himself, _in the heel. Great. I’ve got to remember to throw these out._

The hole in his sock was the least of his problems.

                Somehow, and he didn’t exactly understand how or why, Loki had managed to improve and fix his machine without a lick of mechanical training or knowledge. He had made the parts float in the air, stared at them for a few minutes, and told him exactly how to fix them. Tony didn’t like people telling him how to fix his own machines, much less when they shouldn’t know how.

And that made him ridiculously angry. Beyond furious, as he reminded himself.

                _Beyond. Beyond. I can’t even think—_

“Having problems?”

                Tony raised his gaze from the floor. He studied Loki’s smirk; cold, calculating, but legitimately amused.  The electromagnetic cell bars shimmered in the stagnant air. S.H.I.E.L.D had insisted on the extra security, Tony reminded himself. He met Loki’s gaze and jutted his jaw.

“You fixed my machine.”

                Loki cocked his head to the side.

“You fixed,” Tony’s voice now raised, “My goddamned machine.”

                “I did not.” Loki replied coolly. “You did.”

Tony motioned for the lone S.H.I.E.L.D guard to leave.  

Tony sputtered angrily. Loki’s grin widened. “Don’t tell me you’ve gone soft, now. Can’t you fix your own machines?” he continued, sizing up Tony with his eyes.

                “I can fix my own damned machines. I would’ve done it eventually, but you just pushed it up in the air like it was some damn carousel and twirled it around like you _knew_ what you were doing.” Tony angrily retorted. “You can’t tell me that you and your big brother---“

                “He is _not_ my brother,” Loki growled angrily.

Tony stopped.

                “My brother would have never left me here in this Midgardian prison. My brother---“

“Your brother wouldn’t know how to do that, would he? So why do you?” Tony hotly stated.

                “He is _not_ my _brother_!”

Tony was launched ten feet in the air. He could feel his hair brushing the top of the ceiling. Holding his breath and closing his eyes, Tony braced for the cold impact.

                _Oh god oh god oh god. Don’t land on your back don’t land on your back don’t land on your---_

But the impact never came.  Tony froze, scared to move. He felt the room go cold and, for fear of retribution, kept his eyes shut. After what seemed to be several minutes, he heard the soft scuffle of padded boots on the floor coming close. He felt what seemed to be a hand on his cheek and for a moment, he prayed that it wouldn’t go for his throat.

                It did. _Of course it didn’t work,_ ashe reprimanded himself, _praying to a god isn’t going to help when you’re suspended in the air by another one._ At this point, he didn’t even care that Loki was obviously out of his cell. 

He felt Loki pull off his bad sock and shove it in his mouth. It tasted like floor. The hairs at the back of his neck; raised, as if something was behind him.

                “Don’t _ever_ mention _him._ ”.

Loki’s lips were behind him. Cold, icy breath tickled his earlobes. A sharp smack across his face followed as Loki’s hand left Tony’s neck and went across his face.

                Another second passed. Tony kept his eyes shut as tight as he could. Loki’s hand left Tony’s throat and pulled the sock from his mouth.

“You need new socks.”

He was far, far too close. Tony could feel Loki's individual eyelashes. Suddenly, and without warning, Loki whipped his head around.

“Perhaps next time?” he asked, grinning and walking away. With a flick of Loki’s wrist, Tony fell to the ground. Fully opening his eyes, Tony took a last glance at him before taking the opportunity to run for it but not missing the quickly disappearing, blue flesh just above Loki's collar.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, I feel really bad because I personally think this should be about twice as long as it ended up being.Also, for some reason I have an inability to start at the "beginning" of a story when I write it and end up starting somewhere in the "middle" of it. However, I quite liked this prompt and I'll probably end up expanding on it at some point in time. Ack ack ack. 
> 
> I hope it makes you smile, though. Haha. Happy holidays!


End file.
